" "Never!" replied the woollen-draper; "and if that treacherous rascal, by your side, doesn't make himself scarce quickly, I'll send a bullet through his brain. ” She looked at him; his face, downcast and in profile, was handsome and strong. "You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. She had made her first fight for dignity and freedom as a grown-up and independent Person, and this was how the universe had treated her. Will I meet you there?’ ‘Yes, yes, I shall await you.
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